Obra Maestra
by Krizzie
Summary: HIATUS. A painter. A suspected drug dealer. A murder. Are they all linked? Or pieces of unrelated jigsaw puzzles? It's up to our team of sleuths to find out. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Obra Maestra**

**By: **Krizzie

**Summary: **A painter. A suspected drug dealer. A murder. Are they all linked? Or unrelated pieces of different jigsaw puzzles? It's up to our team of sleuths to find out. AU

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Captain Tsubasa.

**Krizzie: **This is another late vacation gift to Yuki-chan. It's related to "Control" one of my earlier one-shots (found in our combined account), and explains an unanswered mystery in that little ficlet: why the greatest detective had given up her title to work as a comic artist. Yes, I realize that school is basically a two weeks or more away, but that's the point of being late, right? Review!

MAMORU Izawa was one of the prized detectives of Wakabayashi & Co., a detective agency that dealt mostly with homicide cases. Not always, but mostly. He got one late last night.

There was a slight breeze, and he was thankful that he had worn his blazer, but who the hell cared about the weather? He was scouting. His mind shouldn't be wandering off.

The museum covered about one acre of land, guarded with maximum security and had guard patrol every hour on the clock. It would be a hard place to rob, but, apparently, not a very hard one to kill.

The victim's name was Gerald Finn. He was a clueless schmuck, was Izawa's first impression, but that was of no significance. The guard had found him at eight o'clock the night before last on one of the few areas that had no surveillance. Blunt force trauma, the autopsy report said. On the skull. Tch. He couldn't have guessed.

He fingered an unlighted cigarette in his pocket. Despite the shock of the last day, people have kept coming. The curator had cleaned the place up after forensics scanned the area, and now it's open again for art lovers, only this time, mystery lovers joined the bunch too.

He could hear the excited mumbles from inside, and could only imagine the headaches the poor curator must have. Then again, who was he kidding? That man was after money. A man's death offered cash, who the hell was he to complain?

He stopped fiddling with the cigarette and stared at the pale arms that had suddenly been woven around his neck. It was feminine, and the watch was familiar, so his hand didn't shoot up and pull his assailant over and to the ground.

"Smile and act cozy." Krizzie Kurisaki demanded. She was breathing heavily, and he could feel her chest rising and falling against his back.

He smiled. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?" He pulled his hand from his pocket and held hers before tapping her nose with the other.

She smiled back. "I was trying play soccer and ended up stomping over some flowers."

"You're lousy with your feet."

"Shut up."

"Did they see you?"

"I freed my hair and reversed my jacket."

"Good girl."

They held their breath when the men in black came closer, but managed to lie through their teeth when asked for directions. She jumped off him when they disappeared behind the museum.

"What've you got?" she asked, dusting herself off. Her hair was a little wavy from her braid. "Spot anything that might avenge Smelly Gerry?"

"I hope he haunts you." He remarked piteously, but had to admit that the guy did have an acrid aroma about him. "I was just scouting. Genzou said I didn't have to go inside."

"What kind of detective are you if you aren't going to check out the whole area?" she asked. Krizzie was with their forensic team, and she was probably the one who wrote the report he read, based on its limited vocabulary and the snide remarks in between the oddly spaced paragraphs. She had nearly decapitated Gerry last night, so the Chief declared the bodies off-limits for a while and assigned him with a babysitting job.

"Teppei's inside. I'm just back-up." he replied indifferently. "There are eight doors leading in and out of the museum, and that includes the fire exits." She looked amused at his halfhearted attempt to redeem himself.

"Genzou has a map of the whole building." She said in her low voice. "Since when did you start smoking?" He noticed too late that she had pulled out the stick from his pocket with an incredulous look on her face.

He snatched it out of her fingers. "Yesterday. With Hajime." Hajime was their profiler, and the heaviest smoker in their team. She looked appalled. "Don't worry. I won't smoke with you around. I know about your asthma." He assured her.

She wriggled her nose. "That's not it. I'm not that responsive to cigarette smoke anymore. But smoking is bad for you, you know."

"Tch. Whatever."

She rolled her eyes. "Is Teppei going to take any longer?"

He looked at his watch. They've been there an hour and a half. "Probably."

"Let's ditch him and find some grub."

He lit up. Just a little. "Right behind yah."

TURNS OUT, when she said grub, she meant office grub. It didn't console him when she volunteered to cook. He was no better, that's for sure, but she was no gourmet chef either.

Their colleagues were already littered all over the place when they arrived. Hajime Taki was in front of the computer, running a search on the curator while talking to the phone in hushed tones. Judging from the exasperation in his voice, Izawa guessed it was his mother.

Ozora Tsubasa was cramped in his office booth, dressed in a mustard-stained corduroy suit and yellow socks hitched over the edge of his worktable. He greeted them with a slight wave, his face looking tired, and Izawa nodded back. Unfortunately, the nosy little bitch beside him noticed the exchange and grinned despite the forlorn look on her co-worker's face.

"How's the watermelon doing?" she asked in her usually chipper voice, arm lodged stubbornly on the doorframe to prevent anyone from trying to stop her personal interrogation.

Tsubasa immediately blushed, but covered it up by swallowing a pint of cold coffee. Krizzie didn't budge.

"Sanae's fine." He answered at last, and her amber eyes widened considerably. "Just… a little whiny."

"Ooh…" Obviously, she was enjoying this. "Did she ask you to shave your dick already?"

The people in the room gave her _the _look. "What?" she sniffed. "Yoshiko did!"

It was really amusing to see them all turn their heads away at once. Izawa and Ishizaki looked like they were about to die trying to keep their snickers in.

"WE **DIDN'T** NEED TO KNOW _THAT_!" Tsubasa screeched at once, his face just as red as Hikaru Matsuyama's the day his lovely wife had made that specific request. The plastic cup was thrown Krizzie's way, but she angled her head and it ended up hitting Izawa instead. Tsubasa was at least grateful it stopped the detective's laughs.

Izawa decided that once day he was going to stop being such a good guy and actually haul her to jail. God knows she's done enough to serve time, and Hajime told him she did, for two months, destruction of property during college, but she never confirmed it.

A snore ripped her attention from the blushing father-to-be —and conveniently saved her from strangulation as well— and pasted it instead on their wasted supervisor that was sprawled immodestly halfway on the couch and the floor with his mouth open in invitation. Izawa had to pinch himself to stop his hand from getting a stale stock from Tsubasa's office and pushing it far down on Genzou's throat.

"How'd you convince him to touch alcohol?" was Krizzie's instantaneous question. Genzou Wakabayashi was the stingiest, most uptight man that had walked the face of the earth, and outright refused to touch any kind of liquor that wasn't wine or diluted with fifty percent water, so it didn't come as a surprise that she sounded like she was ready to worship whoever _did _convince him to drink—he looked at the table— five glasses of whiskey, on the rocks. Izawa must admit he was impressed too. He followed her as she circled around the knee-height table, all thoughts of sending her prison momentarily gone. She took off a shoe and banged it against the man's head. Izawa wished he could do that too.

"We spiked his coffee with vodka." Hajime grinned behind the computer screen. He had hung up on his mother. "After that he chugged everything down like it was freakin' apple juice." He was about to light a smoke when Krizzie took the pillow that rested Genzou's feet and fired it at him.

"We're in a confined room. Don't do that."

He snorted.

"Listen to her." Ryou Ishizaki raised his head up from a stack of paperwork. He was the secretary. He could've been competent detective, if only he didn't always end up insulting the despondent loved ones and using his ID to get into bars Friday nights. "She has a very _hazardous_ way of making you."

"Heh. That's one of the few sensible things that I heard from you." She looked at Genzou again, eyes full of unhidden interest. "What'd he say?" she asked. "What'd he _do_?"

"Unfortunately, he was a sleepy drunk. He recited some ridiculous poetry—we got that on tape— then passed out cold. It's not as fun as we really had hoped." Hajime looked just as disappointed as she was. "But if it's any consolation, we took a lot of photos."

"Yeah, it does ease the pain." She smirked. "Where's Yuki?"

"Kitchen." Ishizaki replied.

"Convenient." She shrugged. "Hajime! Run a search on Alexander Wood. I'll answer your questions later. And you." She looked pointedly at Izawa. "You wait here." She stood up and went inside the door across the one on Tsubasa's left.

He knew he had to leave before anything drastic happens, like a stale egg on a dubious bowl of soup, or fried chicken downed with butter and cheese, but the other detectives were watching his every move.

Someone's gotta do it after all, right?

YUKI WAS experimenting the compatibility of oil and margarine when she came in. The greasy stuff were both stuck to the pan after being exposed to maximum heat, but her friend looked far from giving up trying.

"Where's Misaki-san?" Krizzie asked as she strolled in.

"Not out there. He must've slept in." Yuki muttered. The grease won't come off, even after she scraped it with the blunt end of the knife, so she threw it in the garbage and took out a fresh one from the cabinet. "What's for lunch?"

"I'm thinking of a couple of hotdog sandwiches." Krizzie answered. "That, I could do, at least."

"I'll cook the meat."

"Yeah, you do that."

**Krizzie: **Reviews will make me happier, and will post the next chapter up quicker… so review!!!


	2. Chapter 2

THEY DISCUSSED their strategy while eating burned hotdog sandwiches. Yuki was uncharacteristically quiet and Krizzie had contented herself to eating a small box of cereals after the first shot from both of their barrels had gone, so nobody had the guts to comment. The safety on their guns was still off.

Clearing his throat, Tsubasa decided to take over their drunken supervisor and asked Hajime to recite what he got.

They got the curator's age, status, residence, vital statistics, and all other nonsense that must've come from countrywomen gossip. Teppei came in while they were joking around that Ishizaki and Hajime could get in the curator's jeans together and it still wouldn't fit them.

"You ditched me." Teppei said mildly before taking long strides to the dispenser to get a glass of cool water. His accusation was directed to Izawa. "I told you to wait outside."

"I was hungry." Izawa admitted, fingering his food.

Teppei took one glance at the brown-nearing-black bun in his hand before he understood. He walked over to the couch, pushed Genzou's legs away and made himself comfortable.

"So… who's Alexander Wood?" Izawa said, angling his head to look at the girl who was busy picking the most decent sandwich on the tray.

"My childhood crush." she responded with a deft flick of her wrist. She ignored the indignant gazes she receives from her workmates. "We got reacquainted early this morning."

"Did you meet him in juvenile hall?" Hajime snipped behind the monitor. Krizzie gave him an incensed look, but he did well to pretend he didn't see it.

Izawa picked up a cup of coffee, sniffed it to check it was safe, took a few sips before deciding it was okay and drained the whole cup. "Let me guess, he's one of the guards that chased you."

"Precisely." She lifted her legs up and propped it by the armrest, her hands doing acrobatic stunts by her face. She looked Izawa and pouted. "I just wanted to make him jealous."

Teppei and Izawa, both of whom were the ones she had been partnered —or left with if you want the harsher term— the most, laughed. "No, seriously…" Teppei said between chuckles. "What's so relevant about him?"

Hajime leaned back on his chair towards his desk and snatched an envelope before flicking it towards the female coroner. She caught it with some difficulty, earning a few snorts from her friends, and took out a couple of papers. "I worked with him in Hyuga's detective agency,"

She got their attention.

Krizzie Kurisaki, their mechanic/coroner hadn't been their ally all throughout, nor had she been a coroner from the very start. She had once been a detective herself, working alongside her surrogate family: Ken Wakashimazu, Kojiro Hyuga, Kazuki Sorimachi and Takeshi Sawada in the outskirts of Tokyo in a worn-out apartment that the five of them together with a girl called Maki transformed into something relatively 'liveable', and had been well off.

Unfortunately, she got into debt with Wakabayashi —a confidential episode that neither spoke with anyone— and was forced to give her services (mechanics, but after he discovered she had done a good job in a couple of autopsies, he let her become an official part of the team) instead of her —well, Hyuga's actually. She was flat out broke— money. The guy had been too gleeful to disagree.

"He was a main suspect in the serial killings at Hokkaido." she delivered before she looked up. Needless to say, she was disappointed at the disconcerted look on their faces. "You know, the one where I was dueling with Matsuyama."

"Ah…!" they all chorused. The serial killer was dubbed the "The Parrot" because he relieved the works of other serial killers like Ripper and Manson but did it with a forced uniformity of someone who was not a natural in the area, but he has killed, and he got away with it and that was just inexcusable.

Kurisaki had been young then, and so had Matsuyama, and both had wanted the glory of revealing the bastard's identity for themselves. They started on the wrong foot, but both of them were civilized by now, especially after the low-key detective married _her_ Yoshiko, her prized _treasure_.

Krizzie turned to look at Yuki, the only one who hadn't uttered anything, and was pleased to find the concentrated look on her face.

"Of course!" Yuki piped right on cue, earning herself a big smile from the outgoing coroner. She got up and grabbed the file from the other woman. "Alexander Wood… he had been the name of the curator of the museum that featured the paintings of one of the victims!!!" She looked positively ecstatic. "_And_… that very same museum had housed one of the deaths!!!" she exclaimed, grinning.

"Right." Krizzie nodded appreciatively. At least one of them did her homework, unlike all the other bozos in this place.

"How come we never knew that…?" Izawa asked sullenly.

"It's because you rarely bother to keep up with the news." Yuki said bleakly. "You outdated bastards." She looked at the file again and frowned. "But I heard he was killed two years ago when someone blew up his house!" She looked at Krizzie for confirmation.

"Yes." she admitted gravely. "But his body had never been found."

THEY SPENT the rest of the afternoon lazing around. Izawa had left to get some decent lunch, pulling Teppei and Hajime with him before Kurisaki could invite herself, and Genzou had woken up from his drunken stupor long enough to realize that he had been toyed with.

To avoid explaining about the weird shoe pattern on her supervisor's forehead, Kurisaki had slipped on the door and went to find their Head Coroner, hoping to appease him with one of her better sandwiches. Yuki had scolded her at the door that she hadn't eaten anything, and Kurisaki replied with a mock salute that she was on a diet.

Diet… heh… right.

When Yuki turned to give the ice pack to their supervisor, he had gone from the couch, and she guessed by the telltale shriek by the bathroom that Genzou had a clearer idea of what happened to him.

She walked to the couch, propped up her legs on the coffee table and counted down from three to one.

"KURISAKI!!!!"

Yuki smirked at the unmistakable sound of feet scurrying on the floor.

IT WAS half past four when everybody assembled back on their makeshift meeting room in direct orders from the higher-ups, which only meant that Genzou was pissed when wanted to vent it out on them.

"So… wassup, Mr. Bastard?" Krizzie Kurisaki asked with a small smile as she shuffled in with her long medical coat. Yuki thought this must be a sign that the hotdog worked… or Krizzie had done something.

She paused, eyes widening momentarily in horror. "What the _hell _did you do to Nitta?"

Krizzie looked up from the snarl on Genzou's face to the accusing stare Yuki was giving her and gave a large grin as an excuse not to say anything. It didn't work, but Yuki's glare of doom wasn't doing any better either.

"Shut up you bastards and look at me."

Genzou's voice did the trick, and all of them put aside all emotions and looked at the straight face that their supervisor was giving them. It took all willpower not to laugh, what, with the ice pack in exchange for the cap on his black and blue forehead, but they managed.

"Your girl's assumptions were right, Wood's related with Finn's death." Yuki could tell by the veins that were appearing on Genzou's neck that he wasn't at all pleased at mentioning that. "His fingerprints were found at the bottom of the vase, and the blood on Finn's boots matched his blood type."

Krizzie looked pleased with herself, but managed to suppress it in a small smile. It had been a while since she worked on the field, and she missed it. "So I take it I'm working on this case?"

Genzou raised his head. "Don't get ahead of yourself, missy. You're still on probation." his eyes narrowed and one hand flew up to meet with his head. The ice pack fell on the floor. "You… nearly damaged vital evidence."

"I was just playing around—"

"Well in this field of work 'playing around' is _not_ acceptable!" Genzou lashed out. All of them jumped back in surprise. Tsubasa went to get a new ice pack and a couple of Tylenol. "I'll give you one day to prove yourself. In 24 hours, come up with another fact that will help us and I'll let you join Teppei and Izawa."

Krizzie's forehead creased. "Fine." she said.

"Good." Genzou massaged his head again. "You may leave."


	3. Chapter 3

HAJIME wouldn't have been their top researcher if he hadn't been so reliable. Restricted files, ancient documents, he could get most of it if he could find the right source. He was good, but that made him all the more dangerous.

But he was an ally, so she naturally wasn't scared of him probing with her files, thought he could've done just that. She had a way of telling people with secrets, and Hajime was a complete amateur in that department. She would kick his ass if she ever found out he'd been trying to dig some dirt about her.

He came with the results six hours later.

After the order from Genzou, she had set on her task with the diligence she had last seen herself in her high school days, when everything was _jolly good show_ and the most horrifying thing that could happen to her was to be kicked out of the honor roll.

"Your suspect," his eyes sparkled with mirth at this one, "died two years ago somewhere in Scotland under a pile of rubble… so they say."

She scowled. "I know that already." she said, disappointed. "Couldn't you give me anything else?"

He wagged a finger at her, and she noticed the unlighted cigarette dangling loosely between his lips. "Ah. Ah. Ah. This is where it gets interesting." He help up another file, it was written in a typewriter, and looked like it hadn't seen the light of days since the end of the 80's.

"Where'd the hell did you get that?"

"Restricted area." He held up a card, and she marveled at it like a child. "I've got forged documents of my own, you see." He smirked.

"When was this?" she took no notice of his confession of dishonesty and took the paper in her hands delicately. It looked so fragile, like it could turn to dust with one touch of her finger.

The paper was a report about Wood's alleged promotion in the army. The position was too faded for her to actually read, but she guessed he was promoted from colonel to a higher position. She wasn't exactly a know-it-all when it came to positions in the army.

He took the lighter from his pocket and lighted a smoke. She was too engrossed in the browning paper to actually take notice. "Three years way after his reported death, I presume."

Her eyes widened. "Holy—!" Don't tell me… he… he was," she shook her head and quickly corrected herself. "_is_ using fake ID!!!"

"Bingo." Hajime inhaled, blew a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. It took on the shape of a cloud. "It's not that hard these days… the real one had been a magistrate during the war. Poor old chap. Died for his country. Resurrected to kill somebody."

"We're not sure if he's the killer yet." She was quick to disarm him. "I just noticed a link and Genzou agreed it might mean something. It doesn't mean we've nailed it."

He blew another nicotine cloud. "If you say so."

She frowned, returned to studying the paper. "Put that out and take me to Teppei and Izawa."

"You're going back to the museum?" He caught the rare determined look she had in her in the corner of his eyes.

She smirked. "Definitely."

MAMORU Izawa scratched his fork against his plate, much to Teppei's annoyance. They had been sitting there for three hours. Hajime had excused himself for a trip to the library, and left the two of them to themselves. Now, without the heavy clouds of smoke to distract them, the two pretty much don't have an idea how to start a decent conversation.

Izawa dropped the fork and sighed. Teppei lifted his hand from his palm, and gave him a bored look that asked whether they should be going back now.

"I don't think I'm ready to face Genzou yet." Izawa admitted.

Teppei chuckled. "Yeah, he seemed pretty pissed earlier."

"Blame Krizzie. Somehow, she always gets him so fired up he can't think rationally." He lifted a used tissue paper and dropped it on his rice bowl. "Now we have a fifty-fifty chance of working with her all throughout the case."

He picked up his chopsticks and stabbed the tissue paper.

"That's a good chance, don't you think?" Teppei laughed.

"But Kurisaki has a way of going against the odds when she really wants something." Izawa uttered dejectedly. "If only she wasn't so sarcastic and annoying, people might actually enjoy working with her."

"Come on, Hyuga and the others managed, didn't they?"

"She's been a lot more aggressive ever since Fujiwara-san got pregnant." Izawa reminded him. "Hyuga and the others didn't experience _that_."

Teppei shuddered. Krizzie had acted like _she_ was the one with the bloated stomach. "You have a point."

They lapsed into another long silence after that. Izawa was still sulking at the thought of having to endure her jibes for the rest of the job, and Teppei looked totally indifferent about it. After a minute of tissue stabbing, Izawa suggested they leave. Teppei agreed.

HAJIME turned to see his lunchmate blink and slack down on her seat.

"They were just kidding around." he said. "Don't take it personally."

She nodded, despite her mind nagging her that jokes were half-meant. In her field of work, being sensitive to such things weren't an option. If you can't take it, you're better of quitting.

"We better be going too." she said. "I'm going to go see Nitta first then I'll go to the museum."

"Alone?" Hajime asked skeptically.

"I'm just going to get some papers. You don't need three people to do that."

Hajime shrugged. "If you say so." he said, and lighted another cigarette.

NITTA SHUN was busy with an ice pack when she came in. He was nursing his injuries, which were obviously from her, but she didn't have the heart to apologize. Besides, Nitta had always told her to stop apologizing for every cut and bruise she gives him, else she became hoarse for one week.

She sighed, and that finally got his attention. He looked up, dropped the ice pack, and all of a sudden grinned widely.

"What are you so happy about?" she snapped before she dragged her feet towards him.

His grin got wider. "You're miserable." he stated and picked up the pack from the ground and threw it over the trash bin. "That's reason enough, isn't it?"

"You're all just a bunch of bastards."

"And you alone are a whole army of bitches."

"Heh."

Nitta shrugged. "We don't have any homicide victims after Gerry yesterday. Lunch just finished. And my daily beating was done two hours ago. What are you here for today?"

Krizzie sat down on one of the metal tables and blew her bangs off her forehead. "I was having lunch earlier." she looked at him to make sure he was listening. "And I saw Teppei and Izawa in another booth."

"So?"

"They don't want me to work on the case."

Nitta's face turned serious. "Actually, I don't think you should either. You have been off the field for too long to work on a major case this suddenly. I think Yuki should do it. Stick with me for a while. Maybe I could recommend you on a case when a new Doe comes up."

"But I'm interested in this one!" she insisted, jumping off the table. "I mean…"

"I know what you mean. I worked on the field a considerable time ago too and I assure you I felt that after a month or two." Nitta walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It'll either pass or haunt you. Give it time."

"But I don't have time!" She pushed away his shoulder and shrugged off her medical coat to hang by the door. "Wakabayashi gave me twenty-four hours!"

He stared at her, the traditional dark Japanese eyes boring on her amber ones as if measuring how much she wanted to do this. After a while, his eyes softened, and he smiled. "Then you'd better start working."

SHE TOOK Nitta's advice and went to the museum. It wasn't as jam-packed as in the morning, and she still had about three meters between her and the next person, which was good.

The floor had been cleaned, and the stained pictures had been sent for restoration. It had just been a few dots, but Krizzie had wondered if they would be able to fix it. Meanwhile, she stared at the replacements, and fingered a specific brush stroke. When she lifted her fingers, there was white powder on them.

"This is weird." she thought aloud, but forgot about it when she saw a flash of blonde hair on her right.

Alexander Wood is back.


End file.
